New Brother
by UnpublishedWriter
Summary: Ken's mother is dying. Its effects on Ken, Joe, and Dr. Nambu.
1. Chapter 1

**New Brother**

Kozaburo Nambu flipped his phone shut and blinked back tears. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Still incurable. No wonder Eileen was half-crying during the call.

He could kick himself for not recognizing it sooner. _I can read a room full of people, calculate the electrical load of that room, and work out a physics problem almost at the same time, and I missed the symptoms._

Except the early symptoms of ALS are easy to dismiss as caused by tiredness or overwork. Only time reveals that the problem is not caused by age, overwork, or over-enthusiastic physical training. Time.

That didn't help to ease his mind. Nor did the reality that Eileen worked in the aeronautical division of the ISO's Jutland City facility, so that he only saw her outside of work.

Ken had sensed it, as shown in slipping grades and increased disciplinary notices from school. Which meant Joe had picked up on it while staying with the Washios.

Neither boy had been able to put his feelings into words. Perhaps they'd not even consciously realized that they were worried or troubled. When they got into fights, they probably really believed they were defending Eileen and him against gossip.

Joe wasn't one for sharing his feelings. A childhood in a psychological combat zone had turned him into a smoldering fire that could flare up at any second. You kept your worries to yourself on BC Island. Only recently had Joe felt comfortable initiating any conversation about his emotions. Vague fears and feeling would remain locked up inside.

Over the past eighteen months,, Joe had changed from a possessive, needy child into a nearly average boy. He'd accepted outsiders into his life. Would the news undo that progress?

***** ***** *****

After receiving the diagnosis from the doctor, Eileen Washio had a good cry. She called Dr. Nambu with the news, after which she had another good cry.

_I want Kentaro. I want my husband._ She wanted him to scoop her into his arms and tell her not to worry, that he would take care of her, that everything would be fine.

He wasn't here. He was gone. Undercover in Hontwarl, learning about Galactor. Setting up intelligence networks that would give the UN and Interpol more than a name and suspicions. Calling him back might jeopardize his comrades.

_Screw that, I want him_ here.

_No._

_Get hold of yourself._ There was always the chance of a cure, or effective treatments. In any case, she couldn't lose control. Ken needed her.

There were things to do, decisions and plans for the future to make.

Figure out how to tell Ken.

***** ***** *****

Nambu hesitated in the living room entry. "Joe. Son?"

Reading his tone, the boy switched off the television. "Yes."

The words stuck in his throat. "Eileen called me at work."

'We didn't do anything today,' was all over Joe's face. "What about?"

Nambu crossed to the couch. "May I?"

"Yeah, sure."

"She's sick. She has amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. There's currently no cure." Except, perhaps, becoming a cyborg.

"I think I heard of it. Didn't Hawking have it?"

"He did."

"That's about all I know. It puts people in wheelchairs."

"It's a slow way to die." _Gods, I don't want this._ He explained the disease to Joe, about the difficulty of diagnosing it, how it usually progressed, and that Eileen would lose the ability to walk, speak, and take care of herself.

"There's nothing you can do?"

"There are treatments. That's all. No cure. The treatments help a little, but they don't stop its progress."

"What about implants? In her brain?"

"So far, no one has made those work for people with ALS. I spent the day searching the literature." Implants helped with certain types of physical disabilities, and even a few types of brain injuries, but not with diseases that wasted the body.

Joe leaned against him. "What about Ken?"

Tricky question. "Long before you came here, Eileen asked me to look after Ken if anything happened to her. He doesn't have any other family. I had agreed."

"He'll live here with us?" Joe sounded hopeful.

"Eventually."

"That's good."

Recalling the boy who clamped onto him whenever anyone approached, Nambu asked, "Do you mean that? He'll spend more and more time here. You won't have the place to yourself." Meaning: _you won't have me to yourself_.

"It's Ken. Besides, you made a promise."

That was easier than he thought. He wouldn't question it. There would be problems enough later on.

***** ***** *****

"No!" Ken yelled. Tears started.

"Honey," she reached to him.

"First Dad and now you?" He clenched his fists as tears ran down his cheeks. "It's not fair!"

She reached for him. He jerked away and ran to the door, intending to run and run until he couldn't run anymore and then maybe she'd be all right it would all be a bad dream ---

A crash and a cry: "Ken!"

"Mom!" Guilt flooded him. He returned to the family room. She'd tried to stop him and had fallen. God, he was such a jerk. "It's okay, Mom I'm sorry I didn't mean it please be okay," he begged as he tried to help her up.

"I --- I'm not crippled yet," she soothed, managing to get both legs working together. "I just tripped. It's not your fault. I forgot I might trip, that's all."

"You'll be fine," he insisted. "Uncle's smart. He'll find a cure. I know he will."

"That may be. We can't assume that." She took his hands. "I'm sick, _now_, Ken. We have to deal with that. I can't do all the things I used to do with you. I really will need your help."

"I know. No more fighting, and get my grades back up." He watched TV. He knew the score.

"More than that. Errands, a few more chores, that sort of thing."

With effort, he kept from crying. "Sure." _You'll get better. I _know _you'll get better._

Chapter Two


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Next Year and a Half

The tree's height no longer made Joe nervous. He leaned his chest against the bole and looked around it at Ken. Spring was coating the mountain forests with green, but he had eyes only for his friend.

Over the past year, as his mother's illness worsened, Ken had more or less moved in with him and Doctor Nambu. Just this morning, Ken's last possessions had been brought to the house. Eileen had, after much delay and rebellion, finally admitted she needed more care than home-help could provide. By tonight, she would be in a nursing home.

_Which is worse?_ Joe wondered. _To lose your parents slowly, or quickly?_ Lately, he was leaning towards slow as worse.

"Joe?"

"Huh?"

"You know I'm going to be staying with you and Uncle for a while." _Until Mom gets better_, he implied.

"As long as it takes." This sad kid wasn't the Ken he knew. He wanted the other Ken back. That kid was fun to be with.

"This'll change things between us. I'll be here all the time."

_Yes, he will._ Things had to change. Ken would be like his brother. He'd have to share his otōsan and life. Was that a good or bad thing?

***** ***** *****

The nurse parked the wheelchair in the sun and withdrew a discreet distance. Nambu sat beside Eileen Washio.

"This stinks," she managed to say. _Gods, Koza, I never thought I'd end up here._

He put a hand on hers. Late at night, after the boys went to bed, he spent as much time as he could searching the literature for a hint of a clue to beat ALS. Nothing. Either it was so obvious that nobody could see it, or no-one had made the discovery that would point the way to better treatments or a cure.

"I can guess what you've done," she said, carefully forming each word. The disease was taking her ability to speak. "Thank you."

He read the command in her eyes: Spend the time sleeping or with the boys. _She knows me too well._ "I thought _I_ was the boss."

"Only at work. How is Ken?"

"We finished moving this morning. He's pretty upset." _He's waiting for me to make a miracle._ "Clarice and Joe are watching him."

"Joe?"

"He seems to be coping, but those two have such strong personalities that I know they'll fight." That would either clear the air or destroy the house.

They sat quietly for a long while, old friends who did not need to fill the space with small talk.

Her care schedule ended the visit. The nurse came over. "Sir, ma'am? Time for supper."

Nambu stood. "I'll come on Tuesday evening," he said. "Take care."

"Bring Ken."

"I will."

***** ***** *****

Determined to present a brave face to his mother, Ken jammed his hands into his pockets as he followed Dr. Nambu up the walk to the nursing care facility. Once past the lobby, his courage deserted him, and he grabbed his uncle's hand.

'Nursing care facility.' The words described the place, but not adequately. He'd watched his mother's decline, and had a good idea what he'd find in her room. A building filled with helpless, sick adults was beyond his imagination.

There were so many, of both sexes and all ages. Very old people bent almost double, shuffling while nurses guided them; unresponsive heads and torsos with limbs so twisted his own hurt in sympathy; men and women moaning, buzzing, barking or jabbering incomprehensibly; angry patients who did not want to be sick, crippled, or disabled.

At home, the machines, tubes and wires attached to his mother had been benevolent alien intruders. Here, they held her captive in the small room. "M-mommy," he wavered.

"Hello, Ken." With effort, she held out a hand.

He didn't want to touch her. Not here, not in this place. That would make it too real, too much, but he could not show her how much it scared him.

Could this be her hand, this clumsy thing he held? No, no: Mother's hands were capable of designing a jet and planting flowers, of soothing his hurts and holding him on his bike when he learned to ride.

"I'm sorry," she said carefully and slowly, looking into his eyes. "I just wanted to see you."

She missed him. He missed her. "I – it's okay." He had to be brave for her. "How are you?"

"Bored."

Beside her bed was a headset that would let her operate a computer and the television by using her eyes, when her voice failed. Poor substitute for the games and activities they once shared.

Ken held out for ten minutes. Before he could break down, she said, "Thank you for coming, son."

"I'll come back," he promised. _I'll do better. I'll know what to expect next time._

The lobby was again the turning point: he broke down in tears. Gently, Nambu guided him to a couch and sat down. No scolding, no nonsense about boys not crying or that he was too old to cry. Ken clung like ivy and buried his face against the doctor's shoulder while the man held him.

Eventually, he cried himself out. He looked at the damp spot he'd made. "Sorry, Uncle."

"That's quite all right. Feel better?"

"Sort of. She's not coming home, is she? You can't help her."

Were those tears in Uncle's eyes? Ken watched one slide down and puddle on one lens of his glasses. Without the least embarrassment, Nambu wiped it away.

***** ***** *****

After an early summer fist-fight (of unknown cause), Nambu had suggested (strongly) that the boys needed a controlled outlet for their aggression. After visiting various martial arts schools (Western and Eastern) in Jutland City, he and the boys happened upon a non-descript school headed by an equally non-descript middle-aged Asian whose accent gave no hint of his ethnicity. Subsequent visits confirmed the instructor had the qualifications to teach two energetic, troubled boys.

Ken agreed, but for a different reason. On the walls hung reproduced artworks of mythical creatures, including several reproductions of Japanese prints showing tengu. "Uncle, what sort of creatures are these?"

"Tengu." Despite his name and Eileen's efforts, Ken was more European than Japanese in many ways. "Powerful spirits in Japanese lore. According to legend, they taught the first ninjas."

That decided it for Ken.

Joe stood at the display case of weapons, eyes on the ones he could throw. Multi-pointed shurikens, darts (some pointed on each end), and knives. In his mind's eye, a rose caught the sunlight as it flew towards him. "Right back at you," he mouthed.

***** ***** *****

Knowing what to expect on the future visits to the nursing care facility did not make those visits easier. Some days his mother did very well, and he had to remember that she would never recover from this disease. Other days (which became more common as the weeks became months), she could barely even acknowledge him.

After one visit, as he gathered himself, he heard an Amerisian couple clucking about Uncle's 'insensitivity' for bringing such a small boy to this place. More astonished by this attitude than anything else (he wasn't _that_ small: he was 10), he turned to look at them.

As did everyone else in earshot.

"What?" the man asked the room at large.

In the car, Nambu explained that Ameris was only now ending a multi-decade cultural desire to protect children from any sort of trauma or upset whatsoever. An admirable desire to guard against the roughest bumps on life's road seemed to have turned into a nationwide ad hoc campaign to deny that the road had any bumps at all.

Ken didn't understand that. Bad things happened all the time. How could anyone avoid them? Would (did) that couple tell their children that the sick person was traveling or had moved away?

Ms. Blake and Dr. Branson, Uncle's friends, were Amerisian, but weren't silly like that. His uncle didn't know silly people.

"Or," Nambu added, interrupting his train of thought, "that couple might have children who are easily upset. They may think all children are that way."

***** ***** *****

Clarice Mason unlocked the front door, being as quiet as possible. These days, she too often found Dr. Nambu wherever he'd fallen asleep the previous night, and the boys tiptoeing around him (if not sprawled nearby).

He was her only employer, now, and had been since a few months after he'd become Joe's legal guardian. She had offered to help him take care of Joe, and after some negotiation of duties (she wanted more) he accepted and raised her pay. He no longer moved between his two homes, and was as busy with ISO duties as ever (no matter how many he gave over to colleagues and subordinates).

And now Mrs. Washio's illness. She had met Eileen many times over the years. She liked her. It didn't seem right that so much trouble should visit this family.

And there he was, in an awkward position on the couch, one arm around Ken. Joe was curled up against one end of the couch, all of them dead to the world.

At least it was Saturday. She didn't have to wake them immediately.

***** ***** *****

Chin resting on folded arms, Joe leaned on the back porch railing and looked over the mountains. He wasn't used to sharing Otōsan.

It hadn't been too bad with Ken, at first. They had acted as if it were a longer-than-usual visit, but time passed and passed and they couldn't deny that this was a permanent arrangement. A dozen little annoyances became a dozen mighty grievances. Disagreements became quarrels. At least one fist-fight over something they could not remember.

That it wasn't anyone's fault made it worse. _Life_ had done this to them. You couldn't fight life. A great, impersonal, pervasive force had changed everything. When Joe wanted his father's comfort, he too often found Ken seeking the same. Because Ken had the more immediate need, Joe would withdraw.

Just an hour before, the formless fear that had come with Mrs. Washio's illness had overwhelmed him. In some ways, she had taken over for his own mother. After a search, he found his father with Ken, and gone away. He could come back later.

_Maybe he shouldn't visit his mother so much._ Those visits always tore Ken up.

He heard the porch door, and his father's steps. "You don't always have to stay away." A comforting arm around his shoulders.

Unsure how to reply, he leaned into the embrace. For a little while, he could pretend nothing was wrong.

"I know, son. We're all afraid."

Yes. This was not just Ken losing his mother. _Papa's losing a friend._

Ashamed at thinking only about himself, he returned the hug.

***** ***** *****

Too tired to sleep, Dr. Nambu took a cup of tea out to the porch and tried to relax. The autumn breeze was pleasant, not cold.

So much to do, and so few hours in a day. Supervise the Mantle Project's various operations; run his own research; take care of Ken and Joe; take care of Eileen; analyze new information on Galactor. _Take care of myself._

Should he look up a therapist for the boys? Gods knew he wasn't trained for this. Love, compassion, and a shoulder for crying only went so far.

"Don't call him back," she'd said. "Don't tell him."

Kentaro would rip himself to pieces trying to care for his family _and_ learn about Galactor. Surely he could leave that to others, now? But there was no way to know that without endangering him.

Today it finally hit him. It was too late, even if a treatment or cure appeared in the next minute. She was on the downhill slide to complete helplessness and death.

He'd been strong for the boys. They were in bed.

Men cry.

***** ***** ****

The boys didn't want a therapist. Joe worried that somehow Galactor would find out about him from the records. Ken was simply stubborn. He could do this. Really.

Nambu did not give in, but he was willing to give them a little longer before he contacted one. He had some contacts who should know well-qualified therapists.

***** ***** *****

Ken wasn't asleep. It always took forever for him to sleep after he visited his mother.

Months ago, Uncle had warned him that she would get worse, and that it might seem to happen all at once.

She'd needed a machine to help her talk. There were more tubes and wires than at his last visit. The headset was well-used.

"Ken? Can I come in?" Joe hung in the doorway.

"Yeah." Why was Joe still up?

"I'm sorry I've been such a jerk."

"It's all right."

"No, it isn't. I – I – merda. I'm an only child." Joe was having trouble saying what he wanted to say.

"So am I."

"You have real friends."

Ken almost said, 'So do you,' before remembering how hard it had been for Joe to make those friends. BC Island wasn't a good place for friendship. "It's okay, really."

Before he could say more, Joe hugged him fiercely and quickly. "Thanks."

Ken _did_ understand. Not perfectly, but he understood.

All those machines. To help Mom breathe, to monitor her heart, to release the medicines and fluids at the right times, to do so many things that she once could do herself.

Why? Why was she suffering? What god hated her enough to make her suffer?

Joe's parents were lucky. He was lucky. They had died swiftly.

As if he had read his mind, Joe said, "You're lucky, Ken. You get to say good-bye."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Eileen Washio took too long to die so quickly.

Three to five years is the average span from diagnosis to death. She was just past the three year mark.

Ken barely recognized her. He didn't want to. He did not want this helpless, voiceless creature to be the image of his mother he carried for the rest of his life.

He touched her face, curled a few strands of hair around his fingers. Not her hair: too dry, brittle, and split. Her hair was red-brown, thick and wavy, barely contained by clips or elastic bands.

Her eyelids flickered as she tried to look at him.

Each visit could be the last, he knew. He wanted it over, to end the suspense. He felt guilty for wanting that.

Normally, he told her about his day and shared his thoughts. Today, he knew he had to tell her the important things. How much he loved her and would miss her. Apologize for being a brat. The secret things only she should hear. And say good-bye.

***** ***** *****

Joe had waited in the hall while Ken visited. He thought of what he'd wanted to tell his parents, and knew there were things Ken would want to say to his mother.

After Ken came out, trying hard not to cry, he went in. "Hi." The words stuck in his throat. "Uhm…. Thanks. Thank you. For being Otōsan's friend. For being Ken's mother." He blinked rapidly, against the tears. "For being my friend."

He hesitated, then leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

***** ***** *****

Years of memories tumbled through Nambu's mind as he looked down at Eileen. Young graduate, ink barely dry on her diploma, confident in the interview, with a portfolio of aircraft designs; the woman who had helped design their most successful aircraft; the growing friendship that had never been anything else; her well-hidden attraction to Kentaro and the way she had kept him at bay as he courted her; Ken's birth and childhood; her sadness when Kentaro went undercover in Hontwarl; her strength as she continued with her life, raising Ken with his help; her exasperation with the gossip that paired her with him; and her final struggle.

He could not find words for what he felt. All he could do was hold her hand and let years of friendship speak for him. "Good-bye, Eileen," he whispered at last.

***** ***** *****

She was cremated. Ken looked at the urn, unable to believe that it contained her. _Not her. Not everything that made her my mother: her heart, her will, her love. No, these are her ashes, her physical remains_. Gently, he caressed its surface.

He didn't want to scatter her ashes. Not until he knew for certain whether or not his father was alive. For some reason, he could not shake his conviction that his father had not died in that crash.

"Ken?" Uncle.

"Just thinking." He carefully held the urn on the way to the car.

***** ***** *****

Eileen Washio's funeral was over before the news media found out she had died. Friends and a few co-workers, Ken, Joe, and Dr. Nambu attended the memorial service.

Francine Blake, and other reporters Nambu and boys trusted, bowed out and kept the cover going. Colleagues had disrupted Kentaro Washio's funeral. This time, the family would be left alone.

***** ***** *****

Kentaro found Eileen's obituary a week later. His cover in Hontwarl prevented him from checking the international news in the sort of detail he desired, so he waited for the weekend, when he could lounge in a public library and browse. An interest in the ISO was hardly abnormal, and he scanned the various news items with disguised interest. His surname caught his attention.

He read it three times.

_Why didn't you tell me, Koza? I don't care what she may have said: you should have sent word! I should have been there for her._

Which was why she would not have wanted him to know. She had raised logical objections to his mission, which he had answered, then had cried (_not_ in an effort to sway him), and let him go. He had hoped to return before now, with information and a network of informants and agents ready. She would not have accepted any loss of life just to see him.

_Stupid, grandstanding idiot. That's all I am. We could have found someone else. We had time._

_You loved a fool, Eileen. Good-bye._


End file.
